


A Touch of Sunlight

by UndisclosedSecret



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, The Western Approach, be kind, first fic ever, hopefully a little funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndisclosedSecret/pseuds/UndisclosedSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor takes the team out for a spot of dragon hunting, and trials some new armor at the same time. Did you know elves can get tan lines?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is unsure about some new armor.
> 
> Expect this chapter to be edited soon. Reading it back, I may rewrite it entirely, though the content will be the same.

Rea stared incredulously at the bubbly dwarf in front of her, and wondered if the roaring of the waterfall behind her had somehow muffled her words. 

"Um, Inquisitor... If you'd prefer something else..." 

The Herald realised she hadn't replied, and forced herself to reach out (and down) to receive the package Dagna still held out in her direction. 

"No, no. Thank you, Dagna. That's very... sweet of you." Realtainn looked down at the bundle that was equal parts rope and cloth and smiled hesitantly. The elven Inquisitor was no prude, but she wasn't entirely sure how much skin the Antaam-saar would cover. It was more a matter of practicality. How much protection could a few lengths of rope really afford her? She ran the pad of her thumb along the deceptively soft lengths and peered at the bundle dubiously, ignoring the gleeful giggle of the dwarf. Maybe when she actually put it on, it'd cover more than she expected it would? 

Either way, it'd keep her cooler when she arrived in the Western Approach, though she looked forward to seeing if it would protect her from the dragon. 

The Iron Bull was excited for this particular trip. On their last visit to the Approach, they'd tracked the dragon, and Bull had all but begged her to take him when they went to kill it. Rea didn't understand the allure, exactly, but if he wanted to swing a battleaxe at some fire breathing monstrosity, then who was she to stop him? Varric had been less than eager, but had agreed after he admitted Bianca was getting a little cranky and Solas had just assumed he'd go with her when she'd mentioned the trip. She smiled at the thought, and then looked down at her bundle of 'armor' and sighed. The Antaam-saar had been made from a Qunaari schematic that had turned up on the war table one morning. There'd been a mock argument after Realtainn had complained to Dorian that her armor was too warm, and in turn, Dorian had exchanged a good twenty minutes of banter with Bull as to how her 'situation' might be improved. The Inquisitor put them both on a list of 'People She Had to Pay Back'. It was a small list made up mostly of close friends and particularly troublesome enemies, affectionately referred to as the 'Inquisitors Shit List' by those in her inner circle.

Realtainn heaved a sigh as she excused herself, and made her way out of the Undercroft, already missing the cool spray that misted Harritt's domain. Dagna's gleeful cackling followed her. No doubt the dwarf was already anticipating the reactions of her chosen team, though she had a pretty good idea as to who might have been behind the convenient placement of the Qunari schematics. Iron Bull would pay for this... somehow. The Inquisitor sighed. It was late and she had meant to ride out with the others a good hour ago. If not for the last minute note that took her down to the Undercroft, she'd be in the valleys by now. Rea ran up the last of the steps. The door was already ajar as she pushed through it, and then... 

"Sera!" She shrieked, the sound echoing in the bucket that had fallen on her head. She heard the sound of the girl's snorting laughter in the distance. Water dripped down her back and she gave an audible shudder at the sudden cold. Sera was going right on her shit list, which seemed to be rapidly expanding. Maybe it was something to do with the tavern they both seemed to live in. 

Despite the cool water, Rea felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Though under the bucket it was dark and quiet, she could hear the tittering of the gathered visiting nobles and dignitaries, and could practically feel their amusement. Attempting to gather what little dignity she had left, the Inquisitor strode forwards and tugged the bucket from her head at the same time, only to feel her foot slip on the water-soaked stone of the ground. Rea gasped, bucket falling noisily from her scrabbling fingers, but rather than land in an ashamed and humiliated pile in front of her own throne, she felt warm arms gathering her up.

"Inquisitor, is everything alright?" 

Realtainn pushed her wet red hair back from her eyes and peered up into the clear blue irises of her elven lover. Solas, his gaze perfectly schooled into an expression of mild concern, stepped back from her, though she couldn't help but notice the way his fingers lingered at her waist. She sighed, but it was laden with the relief rather than resignment. 

" _Vhenan_?" 

She blinked, and could feel the tips of her ears darkening, "Um, yes. Thank you. I think Sera may have..." 

"Yes, I had assumed she was responsible. She did look rather pleased with herself over breakfast this morning."

Rea couldn't help but smile. Being the butt that sat on the throne really did paint a target on the back of her head. Even the butt understood that. She was just glad Sera used that target for mostly harmless pranks, instead of her arrows. Or bees. 

"We'd better go. I'm sure Bull is getting impatient," Rea sighed, already dreading the ride down the mountains with her hair soaked to her scalp.

"Not like this, my heart. Come with me." 

And with that, the elven apostate clasped the Inquisitor's hand and led her towards the circular room she normally found him in. Something in the way he held her hand, so firmly as he stared down the reproving glances they caught from the dignitaries, took some of the 'shame' out of her walk of shame. Instead, the Inquisitor strode past the crowds that lined the hall, with as much self respect as she could summon even as she left little puddles in her wake. Solas ignored them all with that easy confidence he could summon at will, his own indomitable focus, striding straight backed as though he were truly above the stares of even the most noble of the nobles gathered in Skyhold, but he still had the ease of presence to turn his head and give his Herald a small, playful and reassuring smirk as he held the door to the rotunda open for her. 

She was about ninety percent sure that he was laughing at her, even as he pushed her into the chair at his desk. Rea sat obediently, unceremoniously dropping her bundle of armor atop a pile of Solas' paperwork, frowning at it as though it had personally insulted her. Unlike the rest of her, it was bone dry. She couldn't believed it had escaped an entire bucket of water, so she treated it to her best scowl.

Solas watched the Inquisitor scowl at the bundle she'd carried out of the Undercroft. What that mere pile of material had done to offend her so remained to be seen, but it was receiving the look she normally reserved for Orlesians neck deep in the Game. He concealed a smile. 

For the second time that morning, everything went dark. Rea whipped her head around, just as she realised that rather than a bucket, Solas had enveloped her head in a towel. It was warm and soft and dry and it smelled like him. She went still and let him dry her hair. His fingers were firm, but gentle as they rubbed the towel between the loose locks of auburn that lay flat to her head. She sighed with contentment and eased back in the chair until she was resting against his chest. 

"Realtainn." 

He was the only one that used her full name. Realtainn tilted her head up until she was looking at him. 

"I can see up your nose," she told him, eyes narrowing playfully. 

"Realtainn," he repeated, though less sternly. There was amusement in the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners. 

" _Vhenan_ "

They stared at each other for a few moments, each determined to keep their composure despite their mirroring smirks. After a long silence, Solas bent to kiss the elf beneath him. But his lips had only touched hers for a second when a loud bang pushed them apart. 

"Oh, now that is _perfect_ ," Varric drawled from doorway, just as a breath of icy mountain air brushing Rea's still damp skin made her shiver. Solas withdrew and stepped away, but only after ensuring the towel remained tucked around her beige pyjama clad shoulders. 

"Well, it was," Rea grumbled, frowning at the dwarf. He was leaning in the doorway, and the Inquisitor could almost see the cogs turning in his head. She wouldn't be surprised if Cassandra read that particular scene in Varric's next issue of _Swords and Shields_. "Aw, Scout. I'm wounded. Really. Anyway, I thought I'd come find you before Tiny did. I think he's about ready to ride off without you. Something about dragons only living so long." 

The Inquisitor sighed and rose to her feet, pushing the chair back with one foot even as her hands rose to push her hair back into an imitation of the braided bun she usually put it in. 

"Alright," she told him, sparing a glance for Solas as she gathered up her Antaam-saar, "I'm coming."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor leaves for the Approach.

In battle, Realtainn was a sight to behold. 

She fought with a ferocity that was starting to become legend. Staff swinging hypnotically through the air, she'd call down elements of ice. A swirling blizzard turned the battlefield into a deep, dark, cold world and the Inquisitor was it's Queen. Impossibly red hair whipping in the forceful wind she summoned to cast hailstones and rain in a chaotic flurry about her, she would stand elegant and unimaginably in control. Then she'd call down lightning, hand held aloft as though to reach into the sky and take it for herself, wicked beams of light struck those unfortunate enough to be caught in the confusion of her blizzard. It lit the dark world she made in a breathtaking white that illuminated the shocked faces of her enemies. And then fire fell from the heavens, and there was no escape. The walls of ice she called for stood as strong as those of Skyhold itself. Amid all this chaos, the Inquisitor stood, teeth bared in a feral smile as she passed her weapon through the air to land with a resound _thud_ on the icy ground. Sparks would fly from the staff, flying through the air, around obstacles and allies alike to strike whatever poor unfortunate soul had managed to survive ice and fire and lightning. 

She called upon the powers of the Fade without reservation, without hesitation, and fearlessly commanded it to her will. And it obeyed, as though it were no more than some meek dog to its master's calling, tail tucked 'tween it's legs. Realtainn didn't just make requests of the magic she controlled. She drew it into herself until she was full, glowing from the power that thrummed through her veins, and then she loosed it upon the world. She pushed it out vehemently, decisively, and mercilessly. She wielded her magic like a greatsword. 

She was like the lightning she called down. With no heed for self preservation, the barrier she summoned deflected any blows sent her way as she strode recklessly into the thick of the battle. Her power crackled on her skin, in her eyes, in the volume of her voice as she rallied her friends and drove her blade into whatever evil she had chosen to vanquish. The blade resonated with the raw energy she called for and cut through plate and bone alike, but before her enemy could retaliate, she folded the Fade to her will once again. In a ripple of blue light and a single step, she reappeared at distance to cover the flank of the battle, staff already spinning and _thudding_ upon the ground to send out wave after wave of fire. Realtainn used her magic masterfully, freely, but relentlessly in control of every particle of it that she summoned.

It all happened in the space of seconds. Solas had witnessed her decimating Venatori, demons and Sha-Brytol alike in mere moments. Realtainn flaunted her indomitable will shamelessly, and she haunted his dreams in flashes of ice and fire. Her indomitable will was somehow unfathomable. How could such a creature have been created in the modern world? Even without the Anchor that she threw at the Fade, the Inquisitor was a force to be reckoned with. She was a true force of nature, in and of herself. And the apostate was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.

If he were allowed a choice, Solas would be quite content to watch her hunt her enemy for the rest of his days. 

# 

Rea's cheeks and the tips of her ears were burning with humiliation as she finally mounted Halani. She'd missed one of the bottom steps on her way to the stables, and then choked on the apple she'd not so stealthily 'stolen' from the kitchen. The elf working with Cook had seen her take it, stopped in her work, and then been scolded by the matriarch herself. Rea had tried to make reparations, and explain the situation, but the woman had spilled a basket of potatoes in her haste to reassure her that the Herald of Andraste was welcome to anything she wished in the kitchen. It was hers after all, and did she want a sweet roll to take with her? 

Solas had watched as the Inquisitor chased the potatoes that rolled around the kitchen floor, bumping her head in her attempt to be quick and not keep Bull waiting any longer. They'd already stopped so she could slip on her Enchanter's coat. By the time that Rea had finally gathered up the last of the spuds, stuttered her apologies to the cook and backed her way out of the door, a long time had passed. As they left the kitchen, Solas was sure he witnessed the cook's assistant's hands shaking with her attempt to hold in raucous laughter at their supposedly collected leader. 

As it was, Bull had been waiting a full half hour by the time Rea managed to fall down the last of the stairs and climb into the saddle. She'd given the last of her apple to the Hart, her favourite mount, in apology. Solas, Varric and Bull watched her do so in silence, all with suitably matching reproachful expressions. She read their tells like a children's book. Varric's eyebrow was lifted, just a little, as though the machinations of his brain did so involuntarily. She could see him wondering which parts of her to write about, but the way he rubbed his stubbled chin reassured her he was in a good natured manner. Solas stood by his mount, hands clasped behind his back, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his thoughts. Her cheeks darkened a little. Bull had his arms folded across his expansive chest. Rea regarded that with a little uncertainty. He also did that when he was guarded, or trying not to hit something. But who was she to try and read a Ben-Hassrath? She became more certain of his amusement when he spoke up.

"Everything okay, boss?" 

Rea only nodded tightly, and leaned forwards to pet the Hart's white pelt. Varric laughed, and they all climbed into their own saddles. The Inquisitor had been gifted with over a dozen mounts so far. At first, each of them had been received with outright joy. One of Realtainn's few joys she allowed herself to publicly indulge in was that of riding the mountain passes, but as the number of animals she owned grew, so did her guilt at being unable to pay individual attention to each of them. So she'd regifted some on to her closer friends. 

Bull mounted the soft mouthed Green Dales Feral who he'd named Kaaras. Rea wasn't sure what it meant, but Bull seemed content with it. Varric had befriended a nug he'd christened Nettle after his penchant for stopping to eat half way to their destination, but for the sake of sustained speed, he rode Sera's Dalish All-Bred. Realtainn wasn't sure what Sera had named it, if anything. Solas had already mounted the Brecilian Sure-Foot, Falon. The two Harts had travelled together as much as their riders, and it was easy for the party to fall into an easy rhythm, with the Inquisitor at the head of the group. 

"Everyone good to go?" 

"Indeed."

"Yeah"

"Lead on, Boss"

With the final confirmation, the Inquisitor nudged her mount around. Already late, she pushed them to a steady trot as they passed under the gate and made their way into the valley. She had no doubt it would be another long journey to the Approach, but she was glad to be free of the confines of the hold. It was home, but Rea had only ever craved freedom. Gazing out at the valleys, she thought she could see one of Leliana's crows soaring ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't wait to write another chapter. It's completely non-essential information, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Green motes of light danced in the air. Rocks revolved, rotated, suspended. Her boots were wet, soaked through, and as she curled her toes she could feel the thickened liquid ooze between them. Everything was blurred and out of focus, as though some blindness had fallen upon her. The more she turned her head about, the harder it became to see. Her breath was a harsh staccato. Her heartbeat was a desperate hum in her throat. A whisper. 

_Temptation._

Realtainn whimpered. The mud rose higher. It was ruby, copper, scarlet and it stained her. 

_Madness. Helplessness. Despair._

Her skin itched as though a thousand corrupted spiders crawled over her. Everything was still, and cold, except for the Fade's power which flickered in the sky. 

Realtainn wondered if she would drown in the blood-mud that crept over her knees. 

"Inquisitor!" 

"Herald!"

"Your Worship!" 

She whimpered again. If she could scream, she wouldn't. The horrendous tearing of guilt caused bile to rise in her throat. The rock she crouched behind was warm to the touch, but she screwed her eyes closed. _Deny them_ , she told herself. _Just this once. Say no._ Another pitiful, cowardly sob. The calls grew louder. They were wails, shrieks. Every individual life that existed in Thedas cried for her at the same time.

"Please! My brother is lost!" 

"She's out there, all on her own."

"Bandits -"

_Irrelevance. Nothing. Becoming his parents._

Rea sobbed again. Not this time. She was so tired, and her body hurt. Her head hurt. Her hand hurt. She turned her face in to the gravestone she hid behind, into it's soft warmth. It's pink, freckled white skin. 

_Dying alone._

"Solas!" She whispered his name. He crouched before her, curled into a foetal position. She heard a wolf snarl. A pack howl. The man didn't move, except to turn his head to her and smile sadly. His eyes were the crystalline blue of an animal. 

"Not alone. You're not alone. I'm sorry. _Vhenan. V-Vhenan_." 

She choked the words out as his skin turned grey. 

"Forgive me, Inquisitor. I shan't distract you from your work again." 

His cool dismissal of her physically pushed her back. The hard wall she fell against was green and red and wet. She looked up. 

The Nug King stared down at her, innocent black eyes condemning. The only noble she had ever bowed before turned his back on her in disgust.

#

They were fortunate in their travels to the Approach, being able to travel the majority of the journey along a road. As much as Rea enjoyed cross country riding, it soon became exhausting over the course of a couple weeks. Sometimes there were taverns or inns along a road, too, and the Inquisitor enjoyed those most of all. 

The party found themselves in one such establishment west of the Exalted Plains. _The Book and Barrel_ wasn't the most luxurious of buildings. It sat by the shore of Lake Celestine, half propped up by half a dozen rotting poles and pillars. Fishing nets dangled from the walls, and above the door, a swinging sign depicted a barrel laden with a pile of gold coins. It creaked as it oscillated through the air, the hinges rusted with age. Despite its plainness, though, the stable in the back was warm and dry. The interior was warmed by a fire and braziers in the darker corners of the common room. The bar was well stocked, and sold a particular aged Orlesian wine that tasted of strawberries. A kitchen boy hunched over the fire to turn the roasting pig, and its scent permeated the room with a sort of self satisfied warmth. 

The inn was a welcome sight. Varric and Bull went inside to secure rooms for the night, so Solas and the Inquisitor busied themselves handing their mounts to a waiting stable girl. Rea's hands shook slightly as passed over the reins. The girl didn't notice; she stared up at the Inquisitor as though Andraste herself were mucking out one of the stalls. Realtainn laughed as she always did, and put the girl at ease with a few technical questions about the stable itself. 

"What oil do you use on the tack?" She'd asked brightly, eyes bright with genuine curiosity as she stroked a saddle. 

The girl had gushed about making it herself, and how she took the purest oils from Embrium and Spindleweed and combined it with wax to make a substance that made the tack resistant to the rain. The Inquisitor had listened intently as though she was being told the secret to victory against Corypheus. Solas watched the conversation silently, head canted to one side.

Realtainn held him in her peripheral. She knew the familiar way he tilted his head. He was like a puppy she'd known once, when she was but a child. It had adopted the same quizzical expression often, normally when nudged by one of the clan's braver halla. For the puppy, the look said _What are you?_. She didn't know what it meant for Solas. 

It was a while before the stable girl, Alandra, left to actually stable the animals. They'd grown restless, heavy hooves stomping impatiently on the ground. Cheeks aflame, she'd led each animal away into the depths of the stable. Rea turned her attention back to Solas. He was still watching her with that strange expression. She watched him exhale slowly and saunter closer to her, just as at home in some forgotten Orlesian stable as he was in his rotunda or even at the Grand Ball. He touched the side of her face, and she couldn't help but nuzzle into his palm a little. She turned to press a tender kiss on the pad of his thumb. He laughed softly and ran his fingers through her hair. 

" _Vhenan_ , I need to tell you something," he told her gravely. His eyes fixated upon hers, and she stood her ground so that when he reached her she had to tilt her head upwards to look at him. 

"Hmm?" She didn't even blink, wondering and hoping that he'd kiss her. This was the first time they'd been truly alone since they had left Skyhold, and she missed him. 

Solas chuckled softly, always so in control and leaned down. She tried to press her lips to his, but he evaded them. Instead, they brushed her ear and he muttered, "You have hay in your hair." 

"What?" 

"Hay. In your hair." 

"I do not!" She hissed back, hands flying up to investigate, even as the tips of her ears reddened. 

#

Alandra had never had such an honor in all her short life. Fourteen, and already serving the Inquisitor! The Inquisitor! And she'd been so humble, and kind. And funny! Alandra treated their mounts like she'd treated no other. They were so sweet and well mannered, almost so much so that they stabled themselves. She'd never seen a real hart before in her life, either, and now she was caring for not one, but two! Alandra's mind reeled with the honor. No, the privilege. Her little brother would be so jealous. Henley would just _die_.

The girl didn't expect the Inquisitor and her friend to linger in the stable, so her gasp was loud when she turned a corner to see them together. 

The Inquisitor, her hands tied up in her hair, had been backed up against one of the stable doors. Her cheeks were bright, her brows furrowed and her lips forming a delicate 'O' shape. The bald elf's grin was playful, but also wicked and from the way he held himself over the Herald, it didn't take long for Alandra to assume that she'd walked in on them being... intimate. 

She slapped her hands over her eyes and all but wailed, "Andraste's knickers! I'm sorry, Herald!" 

#

Solas calmly stepped back from the Inquisitor, hands firmly clasped behind his back as though he were simply admiring the view from Skyhold's parapets, and his expression fell into one of mild curiosity. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, made a rather undignified sound not unlike the squeaking of a cornered mouse. Solas didn't move, didn't react, but couldn't help but notice the irony in the mighty Herald cowering before such a small girl. There was a long and decidedly pained silence, during which Solas watched his lover quake under the sheepish scrutiny of this slip of a girl. The woman who'd spat in the face of Corypheus himself was lost for words at the prospect of having to splutter her way through some sort of explanation. 

"I...um...he-" Rea stumbled through a few syllables before realising that they weren't even words. Words. She knew what they were. She used them all the time to form spells and speeches and songs and really she could be quite eloquent sometimes, so why couldn't she think of a single word right then? The Inquisitor turned to look at Solas helplessly, with an expression that was at once both accusatory and pleading. He stood there placidly, hands forever clasped behind his back, enjoying watching the most powerful woman in the known world squirm like a naughty child. His expression was infuriatingly bland. 

The door to the stable creaked open, letting in a little gust of icy, salty air. The dwarf that closed it behind him took just a second to glance around before sighing resignedly. 

"Did you catch them at it?" Varric sympathised with the stable girl. "Happens all the time. You get used to it. They're like two nugs - completely unaware of the bigger picture."  


Alandra gasped at the directness of his teasing, even as Varric cast a glance at Solas and Rea as though they were the most filthy leches he'd ever had the poor fortune to meet. Rea looked at him helplessly. It was an expression she had long since mastered, and one that she wished she used less. Varric just shrugged and shook his head, with a small, playful frown that said _I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed_ , and then made his way into the back of the stable, and Rea wished she couldn't see his shoulders rising and falling in silent laughter. 

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

And another. 

Eventually Solas broke it. With all the grace that he'd collected in his travels, he stepped away from the Inquisitor, and offered her the most formal of bows. 

"My Lady, if you'll excuse me, I'll retire inside and make sure the rooms are to your satisfaction." 

It was a tone that the apostate only ever used to escape situations just like this, habitually taking on the appearance of the lowly elven servant caught trying to be too close to his almighty leader. Rea hated it. She knew that was the way that so many nobles saw him, and she hated that he played into their expectations. Of course, if she were a noble it would be endlessly dishonouring to be publicly courting an apostate, and an elf at that, but she was the Andraste-damned Inquisitor, and she would court whoever she damn well wanted! 

Solas loved how angry it made her. 

By the time the Inquisitor's embarrassment had dissolved into self-righteousness, Solas had already swiftly straightened, and left the room so that all was left behind was his lingering scent of warm mint. Realtainn sighed. She was so tired. The girl in front of her eventually spoke up as well, reassured by Solas' formality. That was the point, of course, to set the stable girl at ease, but Rea still hated it. 

"Forgive me, your Ladyship. If everything is to your liking here, I'll take some wash water up t your room for you," Alandra offered, once again small and meek. 

And now Rea played into the role as well. She nodded silently, vaguely, and the girl scurried away, seeing only the aloof Herald finally making it clear what she wanted. She left. 

Rea sighed, and turned to lean her head on Halani's flank. The Hart snuffled quietly, but didn't turn to look, and Realtainn was left alone with her sudden melancholy and exhaustion until footsteps returned. 

"Get a room next time, okay?" Varric called ahead. 

He was making his way back, a jar of wax for Bianca clasped in one stubby hand. Rea managed a dry laugh. 

"Everything okay, kid?" 

Realtainn heard the concern in his voice, the faltering, falling notes that sounded the same as him putting aside his mirth to be the concerned older brother he was for the entire party. Varric was a good guy, even if he was on the Inquisitor's Shit List nine times out of ten. Rea brushed herself off and patted Halani's shoulder before wandering over to meet him.  


"Everything's okay," she told him brightly. 

"Good. 'Cause you got hay in your hair." 

Varric chuckled and went ahead, holding the door to the Inn open for her to pass. The return of Rea's humiliation was a welcome distraction from her lingering nightmares. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first fic ever. Like, ever. It's a bit of a WIP, so I'd appreciate any feedback and comments! There should be four or five chapters by the time I'm done, and I hope to update every couple of days or so, so watch this space! <3
> 
> PROMPT: I see so many fics where Solas is a sex God and Lavellan comes like a gajillion times just from penetration. And there's nothing wrong with that, it's fantasy, but I'd like to see one where they have normal, loving sex with all its eccentricities. I mean, sure, sex can be intense and amazing, but it can also actually be pretty funny. 
> 
> Have fun with it! Sex doesn't have to be serious all the time. Basically I want to see a fic of Solas and Lavellan in an established relationship and laughing and having fun during sex with all its weirdness.


End file.
